33. Sam
THIRTY-THREE
Sam
The waves curl against the shore with mechanical precision. In and out, in and out. I focus on that rhythm instead of the man walking beside me.
This is temporary. He'll be gone soon. I'll be gone soon.
My legs are loose and warm from the run. The endorphins should be hitting my bloodstream, flooding me with that familiar post-workout high. Instead, all I can think about is how Cole's breathing has fallen into sync with mine. How his shadow moves beside mine in the sand.
We pass the spot where I first saw him climb up from the beach that night. Where everything started to unravel.
Don't think about it.
But my body remembers anyway. The weight of him against me. The way his mouth felt?—
I shake my head hard enough to make my ponytail swing.
"You okay?"
"Oh, yeah. A bug flew in my face," I lie.
The silence takes over again, stretching between us like a rubber band ready to snap. He's being careful, walking exactly parallel to me, maintaining just enough distance that our arms won't accidentally brush.
He thinks I'm fragile. That I might break.
The thought makes my jaw clench. I'm not some delicate flower he needs to handle with kid gloves. I'm furious. Hurt. But I'm not broken.
Five more steps. Ten. The sound of his feet hitting sand in perfect time with mine grates against my nerves.
Say something. End this.
"Palm Beach has been a lucrative venture for you, in more ways than one."
I'm being a passive-aggressive bitch, and I'm not sorry about it. He doesn't deserve the opportunity to make excuses with a vulnerable opening.
Cole's step falters slightly, but he keeps up. He looks at me, trying to figure out what I'm getting out, but doesn't say anything. So I twist a little further.
"That was smart to keep that little tidbit about being the very person who was forcing a vote. You went so far as to act like you weren't sure how you would vote."
I don't look at him, but I can feel him turning the words over. Choosing his response carefully, like he's defusing a bomb. Fight back. Give me a reason to hate you properly.
"That's a little skewed, but you're right to kick me in the balls. I deserve it."
Fuck him. He doesn't get to own this.
His restraint makes my chest tight with rage that I don't know how to release. I want him to defend himself, to argue. I want him to give me something to push against.
Instead, he gives me nothing.
It's best if I stop. Nothing he gives me will be enough, and it will only make me madder.
The breeze picks up, carrying the smell of sunscreen from early fishermen setting up chairs in the distance. My skin is sticky with dried sweat and salt air.
My feet slow down without my permission. Then stop completely.
Leave it alone. Walk away.
But my body won't move. Won't let me take another step toward my deck and the safety of putting walls between us. I turn to face him. His blue-gray eyes are cautious, waiting. He's letting me direct this.
For the first time since that horrible phone call from the reporter, I say his name.
"Cole."
It comes out softer than I would have wanted. Fewer weapons, more surrender.
The wet sand shifts under my feet. My heart pounds against my ribs, but it's not from the run anymore. It's from everything boiling over inside me.
My chest rises and falls in sharp bursts. The morning light makes his face too clear, too real. I can see every line of guilt etched around his eyes.
Say it. All of it.
"You bought my hospital like it was a fucking yacht."
The words cut through the salt air between us. Cole's jaw tightens, but he doesn't move.
"You sat on that board knowing what was coming, fucking me and lying, making me believe you were looking at all the angles, acting like you cared about my mom's legacy."
He opens his mouth and starts to form my name, but closes it before any sound comes out.
"I trusted you." My voice cracks, but I push through.
"I know."
"I told you things you knew were sacred. And the whole time, you were behind the shell company. The vote. Everything."
Cole's shoulders drop. His voice comes out rough, broken. "I didn't expect to meet you. I didn't plan for this, for us."
The laugh that escapes me sounds hollow even to my ears. "There is no us, Cole. There never was. Just a guy who fucked me on the beach while tanking everything important to me behind my back.”
My hands are shaking now. Not exhaustion, but from pure adrenaline flooding my system. Every nerve ending is raw and exposed.
God, why won't he fight back?
I want him to say something, anything, to show me he's full of shit. Instead, he stands there looking wrecked, like I just gutted him the way he's gutting Good Samaritan. That restraint disarms me more than any defense would have. It makes me want to hit him harder.
"You know what the worst part is?" My voice wavers for half a second before I swallow it down.
He puts his hands in his pockets and looks up at me with sad eyes.
"I actually thought you cared. About the hospital. About what it meant. About me."
Cole's face goes white. "Sam?—"
"No." I spin away from him, my feet already moving toward my deck. Away from this conversation. Away from him.
But I can hear him behind me. His footsteps match mine in the sand again.
Don't follow me. Please don't follow me.
Except part of me, the part I hate right now, wants him to. I want him to say something that could possibly make this make sense .
"Sam, please."
I keep walking. Faster now.
"If I don't say this now, I never will."
That stops me. My feet plant in the sand again, but I don't turn around.
"What could you possibly say that would matter?"
The waves keep their steady rhythm. In and out. In and out, like a heartbeat that won't slow down. Behind me, Cole's breathing is uneven, desperate, even.
I can hear him stepping toward me, but I don't turn around.
"You were the one thing I didn't plan for. Everything else I could justify. The structure, the vote, the deal. I told myself it was just business. But then I met you. And suddenly, nothing made sense."
His voice cracks on the last part.
Don't turn around. Don't give him this.
But something in his tone makes my chest seize up. I'm raw and unguarded.
"I couldn't undo what I'd already set in motion without losing control of the whole thing.
And I tried. I spent so many hours trying to find another way, any way, because of you.
Not because you asked me to. Not because you guilted me.
For the first time, I gave a damn about something I couldn't leverage. "
My shoulders hitch before I can stop them. The tears I've been holding back start burning behind my eyes.
"Liar. You're a liar."
But something about the way he says it makes me believe him. And that makes everything worse.
"I'm not lying, Sam. I have nothing to hide, now."
"I don't believe anything you say, Cole."
"I don't blame you. "
We both stand there, my back to him. I can hear his breath he's so close, but he hasn't touched me.
"You were right about one thing. I didn't care. Not until you. But once I did, I couldn't stop."
Say something. Run. Move.
I turn around. His face is pale, his eyes are red-rimmed, like he hasn't slept. The morning light makes him look younger, almost vulnerable.
"Then why did you let me look stupid? You slept in my bed, Cole. You let me fall for you."
The words tumble out, each one cutting deeper than the last. The tears spill over now, hot streaks down my cheeks.
"I fell, too."
Three words. Barely a whisper.
My breath catches.
No. Don't you dare.
He's not defending himself or making excuses. Instead, he's standing there bleeding truth all over the sand between us, allowing himself to be vulnerable.
I shake my head hard, trying to fling off the ache spreading through my chest. This doesn't fix anything. It doesn't undo the votes or the lies or the way he used me.
"I can't do this."
My legs move before my brain catches up. I'm running, sand flying behind me as I sprint toward my deck stairs. The boards thunder under my feet.
I reach for the sliding glass door handle, yanking it hard to the left. Almost there. Almost safe.
"Sam, wait?—"
His voice is right behind me, closer than I expected. I slam the door shut with everything I have without looking, safeguarding myself from my own weakness .
The sickening crack of bone against metal makes me freeze.
"Fuuuuccck!"
Cole's cry cuts through the morning air. I spin around to see his arm trapped between the door and the frame, his face twisted in pain.
Oh God.
"Cole!"
I yank the door back open. He cradles his forearm against his chest, breathing hard.
"Jesus, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were?—"
"It's fine." He's trying not to wince, but I can see the red mark already forming.
"It's not fine. Let me see." The words tumble out before I can stop them.
I grab his elbow, guiding him through the open door. My bare, sandy feet slap against the cool tile as I pull him toward the kitchen counter.
I shouldn't touch him. This is exactly what I shouldn't be doing. But the red mark spreading across his forearm makes my stomach twist. I did that. I hurt him.
"Sit." I point to one of the bar stools.
Cole doesn't argue. He settles onto the stool, still cradling his arm. His breathing is shallow but controlled. Like he's trying not to show how much it hurts.
The freezer door sticks when I yank it open, and ice cubes scatter across the floor. I dig for the bag of frozen peas buried behind leftover takeout containers. My hands shake as I wrap the bag in a clean dish towel.
"Here." I press the makeshift ice pack into his palm.
His fingers brush mine as he takes it. The contact sends heat shooting up my arm.
Don't .
Cole positions the pack against his forearm and hisses once. His jaw clenches, but he doesn't complain.
I should step back and put distance between us. Instead, I hover there like an idiot, watching him hold frozen peas against his skin. I'm looking for any complex fractures, any sign that he needs to go for an X-ray.
"I really am sorry. I didn't mean?—"
His free hand catches my wrist.
"Let go." My voice comes out breathier than I intended.
He doesn't. His thumb traces across my pulse point.
"Don't do that. Don't pretend you don't feel this," he implores.
This. Like there's some invisible thread still connecting us. Like everything that happened didn't shatter whatever was building between us.
I'm shaking my head before he finishes speaking. "That's not…. This isn't…."
"Then tell me to leave."
The words hang in the air between us. It's a challenge and plea rolled into one. Say it. My mouth opens and then closes. Nothing comes out.
The ocean crashes behind us through the open door. Salt air stirs the curtains. Morning light streams across the kitchen where we once made coffee together, where he kissed me against this same counter.
Cole's breathing changes and becomes uneven. He leans forward on the stool, bringing us eye level. He's too close but not close enough.
"Sam."
Just my name. The way he says it makes something crack open in my chest.
His uninjured hand lifts, hovering near my cheek. Waiting, asking permission I shouldn't give .
Walk away. End this.
But my lips part anyway. My breath catches as he inches closer.
It's slow, measured, his eyes locked on mine the entire time. He's giving me every second to stop what's about to happen.
I don't.
The kiss hits hard. There's no hesitation, no gentle rebuilding. Only months of want and regret crashing together in this moment. My hand fists in the fabric of his t-shirt as his mouth claims mine.
The frozen peas hit the floor with a soft thud.